


Always Sunrise Somewhere

by Lailyn



Series: Capsule Collection: Tales of Magic, of Sorrow, Joy and of Love [7]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Secrets, Fluff, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Mystery, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Stephen Strange, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lailyn/pseuds/Lailyn
Summary: Snapshots into our beloved Sorcerers' married life with their little angels. Of course, nothing stays peaceful and pleasant for very long.
Relationships: Loki & Stephen Strange, Loki/Stephen Strange
Series: Capsule Collection: Tales of Magic, of Sorrow, Joy and of Love [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1320092
Comments: 53
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

Loki heard the footsteps first. A shadow loomed over him and seconds later, he felt Stephen’s hands land on his shoulders.

“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll look after them for a bit.”

As expected, Loki gave Stephen’s suggestion no thought at all and stubbornly shook his head.

“You need to be at Kamar-Taj in a few hours, Stephen.” He gave the hand on his left shoulder a light pat. “You need more rest than I do.”

Stephen thumbed circles into a pressure point at the base of Loki’s stiff neck. “That is a fallacy. Everybody needs rest, Loki, no matter the species.”

“Yes, but if push comes to shove, I can sleep standing up and with my eyes open. You can’t.”

Stephen’s thumb stilled and Loki almost whined in protest.

“Loki. Are you forgetting that you are a Prince and that you have a legion of personnel in your service on whom you can call at any time should you need help?”

Loki blinked a few times. “I birthed them. Therefore, the law of cause and effect dictates that I should care for them.”

“Yes, but even you have to admit taking care of four sick children at the same time is a tall order, by any law of the universe,” Stephen argued. “I don’t want you running yourself ragged.”

Stephen stuck his head forward and clucked in distaste at the sight of the dark circles around Loki’s eyes, visible against his pasty complexion despite the dimness of the darkened room. “Sleep is a necessity.”

“No, sleep is a luxury,” Loki corrected. “Ever heard of the two-penny hangover, Doctor?”

Before Stephen could even answer –

“Of course you haven’t. You weren’t alive back in late 19th century London.”

Loki sounded more irritable than affectionate. Understandably so, for he had been awake for almost forty-eight hours.

“Okay Sweeney Todd. Think it’s time we get you to bed.”

“No,” Loki growled. He cupped Aífe’s cheek. “She’s heating up again…”

Stephen shook his head. “That’s the natural history of these pesky childhood illnesses, Loki. It’s the body’s natural inflammatory response against infection. As long as it doesn’t get too high, it’s harmless.”

The stubborn set of Loki’s thin lips was highly suggestive of inner turmoil that was dangerously close to manifesting itself, and because Stephen could read Loki’s mind sometimes, he hurriedly added in a warning tone, “And don’t you go getting any ideas transferring our children’s sickness onto yourself.”

Loki whipped his head around angrily. “What’s so wrong with that? Why would you want our children to suffer so?”

“First of all, whoever came up with ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’? Really knew what he was talking about. The kids’ immune system would never develop if you keep interfering.”

Loki bristled. “Interfer –” his hiss died at the sight of Stephen’s ‘I’m not finished’ hand gesture.

“Second of all, since you’re not exactly from around here, we can’t tell what sort of effects these Midgardian germs can have on _you_.”

“I will be _fine!_”

“That’s what you said before you sucked up Freyja’s measles and nearly slipped into a coma from meningitis.”

“That was ages ago, Stephen.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.” The look on his husband’s was infuriatingly smug. “Galileo proved the Earth revolved around the Sun. It still does.”

“You are _insufferable_.”

“And you…” A cup appeared from out of nowhere and its steam singed the insides of Loki’s nose “ – are exhausted.”

“What’s this?”

“Ginger honey tea. You’re starting to sound gravelly yourself.”

Reluctantly, Loki reached up to accept the drink, but the moment his fingers brushed against Stephen’s, he found himself sinking into the couch in their living room where Stephen had unceremoniously teleported them both.

“You _cheat_.” Stephen was always taking advantage of his distraction like that –

“Hush.” Stephen circled an arm around Loki’s shoulders and pulled him in. He frowned at how tense his husband was and began to knead the tight muscles around Loki’s shoulder blades.

“Oh, that feels good,” Loki whispered, all hint of annoyance gone. He took a sip of the hot tea, and the sandpaper he must have swallowed in his microsleep disappeared like magic; Loki cleared his throat in sheer relief.

“Better?” Stephen asked knowingly, because Stephen was magic like that.

Loki smiled tiredly. “A little bit.”

Stephen kissed him on the cheek, surreptitiously checking for temperature. Loki did not seem to be running a fever, but he knew better than to allow himself to feel relief; waiting out incubation periods was a pain in every doctor’s behind.

“Would it kill you to take a break once in a while?” Stephen grumbled, more to himself than anyone else. Loki was not likely to listen to words anyway.

Loki had the tendency to surprise once in a while, since he appeared to be listening this time, for when Stephen cupped the side of Loki’s head and pushed down, Loki dropped it to rest onto Stephen’s shoulder at the same time.

The overshoot sent Loki’s head all the way down, resulting in Loki’s final position lain in Stephen’s lap. It was when he was horizontal when he finally realised how heavy his head was, and Loki did not bother pushing himself upright again.

“It’s time for the children’s medicine soon,” Loki mumbled into Stephen’s thigh.

“I’ll take care of it,” Stephen shushed. “Shut your eyes.”

Loki could feel himself drifting; Stephen playing with his hair would almost always lull him to sleep and Stephen knew it.

_Cheat_.

“Whatcha reading?” Loki murmured, half-asleep but still wanting to talk.

Stephen scrolled through his phone with the hand not distractedly massaging the knots at Loki’s temple. “The Tupperware hangover…”

Loki gave a low, tired chuckle. “The _‘Two-Penny’_ hangover.”

“That’s what I said, honey,” Stephen said mildly.

When Google finally did its magic and gave him a page with pictures (and because he was a sucker for anything black and white), he whistled in a mix of nostalgic awe and sympathy. “Wow. These people had it rough.”

“Yes, and for an extra two pence, you could get an upgrade and sleep in a coffin.” Loki stifled a yawn.

Stephen was quiet. After a while, came a very soft, “No kidding.”

Loki turned his head very slowly to look up at his husband and studied the forlorn look on Stephen’s face. “What’s the matter, Stephen?”

“You saw all that?” There was a peculiar note in Stephen’s voice that always seemed to creep in whenever Loki would talk about his past: a mix of envy, wonder, distaste…and for some reason, sympathy.

“What can I say. I’m History Channel on legs.”

“It’s sex on legs, Loki.”

“That too,” Loki sighed. “I’m Limited Edition.”

Stephen laughed silently, and simply because he agreed, he conjured a thick, fleece blanket and bundled Loki up in it. “I love you.”

“Hmm.”

“And thank you. For caring for our children.”

“You’re welcome.”

And because it was deliciously warm in here, wrapped up in fine wool and love and magic, and because he did not have to pay a single penny to be hugged and loved like this –

“I love you too, Doctor.”


	2. Chapter 2

“There you are.”

Stephen looked up. And around.

How intriguing it was, to hear Loki’s voice before seeing his physical body. It reminded him of the age-old race between lightning and thunder.

Green gave away to a vision, all decked in Asgardian court fineries and grace and savage beauty. “I was looking all over for you.”

Stephen lifted his face to receive the swooping lips, spelling away the pout in Loki’s voice by suffusing the return kiss with extra fervour and gusto. Loki tasted of cinnamon rolls.

“Yum. Did you bring some for us?”

“Of course. I figured the children would be famished once they are done swimming.”

“See. You did know where to find us.” Stephen shrugged, and turned his attention once more to the journal he was light-reading.

“Yes, but I was looking for you at the pool back in Asgard.” Loki glared at him viciously. “A thousand and five hundred miles away.”

Stephen hummed noncommittally. “Sorry. I thought I’d left you a Post-It on the fridge before we left this morning, did you not see it?”

“I would sooner steep the thing in sack and make you eat it than read anything written and left for me to read on pieces of scrap paper.”

Stephen had to blink a few times to process Loki’s words. He gave up not too long after. “Too much Shakespeare again, darling?”

“There is no such thing as too much Shakespeare, Strange," said the die-hard linguist in the family.

“Uhuh," Stephen deadpanned. "King Henry V?”

“IV. Part 2.”

“Ah.”

So much for his eidetic memory.

Stephen burrowed his face once more in the article he was reading on neurostimulation and its role in the brain development of very premature infants. He was convinced now more than ever that reading medicine was much, much easier than literature. For him, at least.

“You could have waited for me, you know.”

Stephen nonchalantly flipped a page. “I saw the agenda on your desk this morning and knew it would take you guys at least a whole day to reach a consensus. Thor was never letting you leave Court before everyone’s finished duking it out.”

“Not my fault if most of the courtiers refused to adapt to change. Somehow, they believe they’re still on Asgard where time used to run in centuries, instead of seconds and minutes.”

Loki raked a hand through his hair, looking somewhat harried and restless. “My old friend Winston used to say that there is no problem so complex, no crisis so grave that it cannot be satisfactorily resolved within 20 minutes.”

“Let me guess. Churchill.” Stephen’s dry remark was lost on Loki, whose demeanour had suddenly turned sombre as he watched their children frolic in the water.

“Loki, what is it?” Stephen finally placed the journal spine-down on his lap. “You look troubled.”

Loki bit his lower lip. “Before I excused myself from the Council Meeting, I…raised an issue.”

Stephen waited, his alarm growing with each second Loki did not speak.

“The issue of us,” Loki said quietly. “Living away from Asgard.”

A silence fell over them, a silence so heavy it drowned the soft buzzing of cicadas and distant sounds of splashing water.

“As it happens, I am still heir presumptive to the throne, until such time that my Brother begets an heir of his own. Since things are unlikely to change anytime soon, the Council is of the opinion that I should remain in Asgard for the foreseeable future. For my own safety, they say.”

“They would not have their wayward Prince stray so far from the eyes of the Crown.” 

Stephen said nothing. He only looked ahead at the view before him, his steely grey eyes unreadable.

“Then there is the issue of security." Loki ended his soliloquy with an irritable wave of his hand. 

“We are more than capable of taking care of ourselves,” Stephen argued quietly. “Between you and me, the world doesn’t stand a chance against us.”

“I know that, Stephen.”

“What say Thor?” Stephen tried not to let Loki’s heated exasperation colour the tone of his own voice. “Doesn’t the final decision rest with the King?”

“Thor would have been behind me a hundred percent had it not been for the cautionary word he received from the French Ambassador. And the word is? _Absolument pas!_” Loki said bitterly as he paced the short edge of the pool from one end to another, keeping his hands on his hips to stifle the overwhelming urge to knife something or somebody.

Stephen’s forehead furrowed deeply. “Why would they say no? We own this house.”

Loki cracked a very small smile at Stephen’s deliberate use of the collective personal pronoun.

“And there is no other place in the world like Provence. It is as far away from Asgard as it is from New York,” Stephen said vehemently. “This is perfect for us.”

His eyes swept across the vast acres of land before him in the valley below. “_This_ is our somewhere in the middle.”

Stephen realised his voice was rising to match his temper and he valiantly fought to keep calm. “Why did France have to find out anyway?”

“Thor is obligated under international law to inform the relevant bodies should I wish to relocate permanently outwith the territorial borders of Asgard,” Loki said glumly. He stared down at the ground, wishing he could disappear through the cracks in between the decades-old terracotta tiles. “The legitimate settlement of Asgard on Earth is conditional upon my…good behaviour, Strange. You know that.”

Stephen closed his head and leaned his head back against the headrest, frustration churning away in his stomach at the sound of despair in Loki’s voice.

“I can’t run away from my past, Stephen,” Loki whispered, more to himself than anyone in particular. “There’s nowhere to go. Midgard is too small.” 

He looked up at the sky, a brilliant azure blue with not a rain cloud in sight.

What was stopping him from changing into a falcon and flying away from here?

Tinkling peals of laughter brought him around slowly.

Loki sat down heavily on the chair a few feet away from the water. Aífe had somehow wrestled the water gun away from Stian and was now squirting her brother in the face.

The heat of someone’s gaze finally pulled the last length of the tether and jolted him back to reality.

Taken aback, Loki straight up straighter in the lounge chair. “Stephen?”

Never had Stephen looked so pale before, his face white with anger? Fear?

_“Are you going to?”_

Loki stared deeply into Stephen’s stormy eyes.

“No.” _“No.”_

Loki’s answers rang out, in speech and in mind, firm and unbending. “No, husband. I am not.”

“I will not run.” _I am done running._

Stephen’s chest finally moved as he drew in a shaky breath.

_“Promise me, Loki.”_

“Pappa!”

Loki rose to his feet once more. He walked slowly to the edge of the pool. He smiled and gave his children a little wave.

_“I promise.”_

With Loki’s back toward him, only the slump of Loki’s shoulders gave Stephen any indication of the deep melancholy that must be weighing on his husband’s fantastical mind. Then he heard the inevitable sigh, forlorn and heavy.

“I’m sorry, Stephen. I know you’ve waited a long time for us to be together, just us.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Loki remembered how happy Stephen had looked the day Loki said yes to their finding a place of their own.

“It _doesn’t_.” Stephen was adamant. “Asgard or New York, I am wherever you are. Remember?”

“I remember,” Loki said softly. He turned around very slowly. “You’re not mad?”

Gone was the turbulence from Stephen’s eyes, in its place a gentleness Loki only ever saw in moments like this.

“Loki. You never once asked me to choose between you and my duties. So no, I am not mad.”

Loki still looked mighty uncertain.

“You are my husband. My partner in life. Our children’s mother,” Stephen said quietly. “But before you became all that, you were Loki of Asgard."

"Asking you to choose would mean erasing a huge part of yourself, and that is something I would never do to you. Ever.”

Loki’s knees felt suddenly wobbly. He sat down heavily on the sun lounge next to his adoring husband.

His lips quivered. “I love you, Stephen Strange. I truly do.”

Despite the kaleidoscope of butterflies that took flight in his stomach upon hearing Loki’s heartfelt words, Stephen felt the first stirring of uneasiness. It was rare enough to hear Loki say the words, rarer still for him to say them while avoiding all eye contact.

“Loki, what’s the matter?” Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “Did something else happen?”

“No, no.” Loki let out a small, embarrassed laughter. “Well. To be honest, I did come here all prepared for a fight.”

“And now that you didn’t get one, you kind of have no idea what to do?” Stephen guessed.

At the instant semi-guilty look on Loki’s face, Stephen shook his head in amusement. “You think too little of me sometimes, Odinson.”

Loki snorted. “Or maybe you let me win because you wanted a cinnamon roll.”

“That, and – ” Stephen reached over and tugged on Loki’s hand so hard his husband launched from the sun lounge like a catapult; with ease, Stephen caught him around the waist and hauled him into his lap. “All of _this.”_

Loki swatted Stephen’s hand away from his ass with a tut-tut of disapproval. “Not in front of people, Strange.”

“What people?” Stephen blinked. “We’re the only ones here.”

“Remind me to do something about your ghost radar when we get home,” Loki muttered. “I swear you get worse as you get older.”

Stephen’s nose flared in indignation. “For the millionth time, Loki, there are no ghosts here. My family lived here for years when I was young, I never saw or heard or felt anything.”

“Yeah? Then who’s that standing by our bedroom window?”

Stephen’s head whipped up to look. There were a few windows that faced the pool directly – his gaze zoomed in on the one on the second floor, the farthest left.

He squinted. “I don’t see anyone.”

“You never do.” Loki gave him a comforting pat on the back. “It’s alright, darling. They’re not malevolent or anything.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel a whole lot better,” Stephen said sarcastically, if not a little hysterically. _They?_

Loki rearranged himself on the sun lounge that was simply too small for both of them and Stephen was only too eager to help; he could feel Stephen becoming aroused underneath him and Loki pummelled the back of his head into Stephen’s face. “Have a little patience, my dear. Let the children have their fun.”

Stephen made a small sound of protest. “When is it my turn?”

“Let me watch them just a little bit longer and then we’ll get them out, alright?”

“Good luck with that,” Stephen muttered. “If you still have doubt about how much your son loves the water, he asked me this morning if we could live underwater.”

Loki laughed silently. He watched as their eldest swooped up and down in the water like an aquatic caterpillar. “What is he doing?”

“I think he’s channelling a dolphin.”

Loki was quiet for a while. “Did he shift?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Stephen answered carefully. He hesitated. “How old were you when you first shifted?”

“I shifted on the day I was born,” Loki answered softly. “Odin held me and I – ” he abruptly clammed up.

Stephen tightened his hold around his husband who had suddenly stiffened in his arms. Desperate to change the subject, he grabbed onto the first thing that crossed his mind. “Let’s have tea. What else have you got in your pocket universe?”

“Besides the rolls?”

Stephen nodded.

“Some petite madeleine, chocolate Twinkies, caramel eclairs…” Loki shuddered visibly with the effort to relax. “And a slice of angel cake for Aífe.”

“Sounds delicious.”

Loki hummed distractedly.

“You alright?” Stephen could feel the tight knots of Loki’s stomach through his leathers. “You’re very tense.”

“I’m alright, Stephen.” Loki inhaled deeply. “It’s been a long day, that’s all.”

Stephen kissed the back of Loki’s head. “You think too much, you know that?”

“If you can find my off button, let me know,” Loki said with a tired laughter.

Stephen began to nibble on an earlobe. “Maybe once we put the kids down for a nap, we can go for a soak in the pool ourselves.”

“You do realise we have two other children back in Asgard in need of our attention?” Loki teased.

“We do?” Stephen mock-groaned.

When Aífe began to sneeze a few times in succession, Loki slid off Stephen’s lap and clapped his hands together. “Alright, that’s it. Both of you, out.”

Stian let out a whine of protest. “But Daddy said we could swim for as long as we liked…”

“Sorry buddy. Your Pappa’s words are final, I’m afraid.” Stephen stood up and conjured a stack of towels. “He’s holding your Twinkies hostage.”

_“It doesn’t have to be France, you know,” _Stephen said telepathically as he towelled Stian’s wet shaggy locks furiously. His son’s hair seemed to have a life of its own; no sooner had Stephen trimmed it than he found it grown again like magic.

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah. There are some islands we can go to. Choose one and we can claim it as our own. Make it our home.”_

In contrast, Aífe’s auburn hair was sleek and straight; Loki adored it as much as he envied her for it. He dried it with a touch of seidr and magic conditioner. Now his daughter was back to smelling all nice and rosy. “How would you like me to do your hair, my sweet girl?”

“Hmm…a waterfall braid please, Pappa?”

“Of course, my dear.” _“Ailsa Craig’s up for sale, if you’re up for it.”_

_“You’re joking. Scotland?”_

_“It has everything I ever wanted in a home on Midgard. A lighthouse, a bird sanctuary, a summit I can climb if I’m bored, a 3-storey castle –”_

_“Ruins.”_

_“Exactly.”_

_“I don’t know…Belize has tons of tropical islands for sale…and a lot less rain…”_

_“Well, be it Belize or Scotland, it can’t possibly have any more ghosts than here.”_

_“For the last time, Loki, there are no gh- ”_

“Daddy, can we get the twins to come swim with us next time?” Stian asked.

“Freyja and Freyr are not ready for the water yet, Stian.” Having been born very premature, the twins had a lot of catching up to do in terms of developmental milestones as well as their immune system in general, and Stephen would rather keep them protected from the elements for a while longer.

“Not Fee-fi-fo-fum, Daddy,” Stian laughed, obviously still dead-set on calling his twin siblings by the nonsensical nickname.

“Silly Daddy.” Aífe too, smiled a toothy grin that made her grey eyes twinkle like stars.

“Then who?” Stephen asked in confusion.

“Them!” Aífe pointed. “Up there!”

“They live in the attic,” Stian explained helpfully. A frown creased his high forehead and a lock of glossy black hair fell over one eye. “Why do they look so sad, Daddy?”

“Why indeed?” Loki murmured under his breath.

Stephen shivered with a sudden chill. Strange, when it was the height of summer and he did not even swim. Stranger still, that not only Loki, but his two older children could see things he could not.

Stephen did not know where to turn: the dormer window looking into the attic, or Loki, whose gaze was so intense it was burning holes through the side of his head.

Holes or no holes, Loki’s dry, sardonic remark penetrated his mind all the same. Disembodied. Ghostly.

_“You were saying?”_


	3. It's Always Sunrise Somewhere

_‘It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light.’_

Hans Christian Andersen

“She died hungry and cold, Daddy.” Stian’s big, fat tears seeped into his duvet as he pulled it higher up his chin.

“She doesn’t feel the cold, Stian.” Stephen ran his fingers through his son’s hair. “Not anymore.”

“Someone stole her slippers.” Stian wiped his eyes angrily. “How could someone steal her slippers?”

“But at least she’s warm now, Brother,” Aífe said soothingly from her bed across the room. “She’s with her grandmother.”

“Okay.” Stian sniffed. “I hope she gets to eat whatever she wants now that she’s in Heaven.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of nice things to eat, wherever she is now.” Stephen sighed, closing the book and tucking it back into the shelf beside him. “Go to sleep, guys. It’s getting late.”

“Steaming roast goose…stuffed with apples…” Stian said dreamily, “…and dried plums…”

Then he made a face, “Plums are yucky.”

Stephen laughed softly. “Good night, buddy.” He kissed Stian on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

“I lied,” Aífe whispered loudly, when it was her turn to get tucked in.

“Hmm?”

“The girl. It wasn’t her grandmother who came for her when she died.”

“Then who did?”

“She didn’t say her name.”

Stephen gave his daughter a sharp look.

“She lit all her matches to give her grandmother enough time to take her away and far above the earth, where there was neither cold nor hunger nor pain…” For something she had only ever heard once, Aífe could recite the line word by word. Once again, Stephen found himself astounded by his daughter.

At the look on her father’s face,

“It’s a true story,” Aífe said stubbornly.

“You don’t know that, Aífe.”

“I dream about her sometimes.”

“Who?”

“The little girl in the snow. She had no slippers too.” Aífe shivered visibly and shrank into her bedding. “Someone burnt down her house and she had to climb up the mountain with no shoes.”

“Aífe, are we still talking about the book?”

“She had no slippers but she didn’t feel the cold.”

“Did you see Pappa?” Stephen asked quietly. His blood began to thump in his ears, “Did you see _me?”_

“No.” Aífe looked up curiously. “Why?”

“No reason,” Stephen fought to keep his voice calm. “I just…didn’t want you to go through a nightmare all alone.”

“I wasn’t alone, Daddy.” Aífe gave a great, big yawn. “The nice lady was there.”

“What lady?”

But was already drowsing, her eyelashes fluttering as she fought to keep her eyes open but failing.

Stephen stared at her for a long, long time. He smoothed out her long hair across her pillow.

Aífe’s cherubic face smiled at him in her sleep, her thin lips rosy red

_there lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall_

Loki.

_frozen to death on the last evening of the year; “She tried to warm herself,” said some._

He needed to find Loki.

“Sweet dreams, baby girl.” Stephen leaned down to kiss her forehead gently, and began his search.

___________________________________

Stephen’s bare feet padded into the kitchen soundlessly. He picked the almost-empty glasses off the counter, chugged his children’s unfinished milk in a single gulp and placed the glassware in the sink.

It was unusually bright out on the balcony tonight; despite the dimness of the kitchen, he could clearly make out Loki’s outline where he was sitting casually on the ledge through the sheer curtains billowing in through the open windows of the balcony.

“You coming to bed?” Stephen asked quietly. He knew his voice carried.

Loki shook his head. “Come watch the sunrise with me.”

“Loki, it’s 10 p.m. We have just put the children to bed. What sunrise?”

“How is it that I know more about your Earth than you?” Came Loki’s dry response. “It’s always sunrise somewhere, Stephen.”

Curious now, Stephen walked over past the living room and out onto the gable-roofed patio.

“How is that not the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

A giant portal loomed over them high up in the air.

Stephen marveled at the way the orange strips of light hit the sharp angles of Loki’s face, illuminating the spots Stephen oft found only by touch, like the dimpling where his ear ended and his jaw began, the dip in his temples that Stephen knew by now fit his thumbs perfectly.

“Yes,” Stephen had to agree. “It is.”

If Loki knew he was staring, his husband did not show it.

“Look at it, Stephen,” Loki murmured in awe. “The Land of the Rising Sun.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t climb up Mount Fuji yourself.”

“Are you.”

“Well…you do have a tendency to do things the hard way.”

Loki gave a delicate snort. “I am past that, I think.”

Stephen’s chest rose in a deep breath, silent and abiding. There was a fine line between reading too much into what was in between Loki’s lines and taking them at face value.

With Loki, there was often too much overlap in what he did not wish for Stephen to be privy to, and what he was hiding in plain sight.

“You are free to do whatever you want, Loki.”

“I am not trapped, Strange.” Loki’s voice was dangerously soft. “Of course I am.”

Stephen bent over the balcony, bracing his elbows against the plaster railing.

“You need to get it out of your head that I am not doing this out of my own free will,” Loki continued his rant. “We have been through too much.”

Loki’s eyes glinted off the distant sunlight, yet the rest of him was shrouded in the darkness, as dark as his voice. “Or are you tired?”

“Of what?” Stephen asked softly.

Loki’s lips barely moved. “Grounding me?”

A hand suddenly grabbed the back of his collar and wrenched him backward, toppling him off his precarious perch –

And the next thing Loki knew, he was lying on his back with all wind knocked out of him, bone-thin wrists pinned to the cold tiles at his side; there was nothing delicate and gentle in the way the rough, calloused hands were holding him down…and yet…

_“Never.”_

Loki surged upward to meet him halfway, but Stephen pushed him down further, his hoarse whisper bristling the fine hair on Loki’s neck – hot, heavy and raw with emotions, "You ground _me_."

“Then stop treating me like I’m going to run away the second you’re not looking.” Loki kissed the lobe of Stephen’s ear. “I promised, remember?”

“Stay where I can see you.” A rush of relief washed over him, and Stephen surrendered the rest of his face to Loki’s kisses. It would be his turn soon enough. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

Not unlike thunder and lightning, Loki heard the protest of Stephen’s stomach seconds before he felt it rumble through his shirt. “Somehow I have a feeling I’m not what you’re hungry for.”

“Bedtime story-telling always gives me an appetite.”

“Thinking about life’s choices does that to me too.”

“I can’t do a traditional Japanese breakfast, but I can do pancakes?”

“Pancakes at midnight.” Loki licked his lips. “Sounds delicious.”

Some five minutes later, Loki watched as Stephen stood by the stove waiting for the pan to warm, spatula at the ready.

“You took your time tonight with the children. Did they like the story too much and make you read it three times over?”

Stephen sneaked a glance, “They did that to you?”

“Only if I’m reading Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. Stian’s on the side of the mongoose, but Aífe wants the snake to win, so she always tries to make me change the ending.”

“And do you?”

“Change the ending? No.” Loki popped a handful of cashew nuts into his mouth. “I tell them it doesn’t matter who wins, the cobra or the mongoose. In the end, both of them were fighting for family.”

“You’re on the cobra’s side, aren’t you.”

Loki met Stephen’s side-glance head-on. “Does that surprise you?”

Stephen did not answer.

“Rikki kills my husband. Destroys all my eggs but one.” Loki dusted the salt off his fingers and clasped his hands neatly on the counter. “I’d destroy the whole world.”

Stephen hid a slight shiver. He tossed a few pancakes onto a plate, drizzled some maple syrup over them and slid the plate across the countertop. Loki reached for the plate, but Stephen caught his hand first and dropped a silent kiss on his knuckles, before turning back wordlessly toward the stove.

“Aífe wanted to talk about the story,” Stephen expertly changed the subject and answered Loki’s question at the same time.

“Yeah? What did you read them tonight?”

“The Little Match Girl,” Stephen mumbled after a pause, and Loki gave a wince –

“Should have skipped that. Stian doesn’t like those kinds of stories.”

“Aífe doesn’t like it when we do things out of order, you know that,” Stephen muttered. “She always knows. I have no idea how she does it, but she does.”

“Barely three and she gives me goosebumps,” Loki heard Stephen mumble under his breath, and something turned his blood to ice.

“Does she frighten you?”

“What?”

“Does our daughter frighten you?”

“I will pretend you did not just ask me that.”

“Why? It is a valid question.”

Stephen clenched his jaw to keep from saying something they would both regret; he inhaled deeply and raised his face, but the look of terror in Loki’s eyes was unexpected and smothered all thought of retaliation.

“Odin hid the truth from me for over a thousand years. Said he did it to protect me.”

The wringing of Loki’s hands spoke volumes, the haunted, thousand-yard gaze few and far between nowadays but nevertheless the occasional visitor. “A part of me always believed he did it because he was afraid.”

“I am not afraid of her, Loki.” Stephen forced Loki’s hands to still, transferring some powdery flour and turning Loki’s fingers whiter. “She is our miracle baby.”

"I am afraid _for_ her.”

Loki’s face crumpled.

“She is brilliant and she is gifted,” Stephen soothed.

"Gifted?”

Stephen stared deep into Loki’s eyes. “_Very_ gifted.”

Loki reared his head. The smell of burning pancake began to smoke the kitchen.

With a wave of his hand, the pan slid across the stove by itself and the angry red of the induction cooktop began to dim.

He looked down at the one hand still clutched in his husband’s, and intently studied Stephen’s neat fingernails. “So who shall we have teach her magic?”

“I might have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The children's stories mentioned in this chapter:  
1\. The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen  
2\. Rikki-Tikki-Tavi from The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling.


End file.
